The Cutter Orion
by CreapyCreature
Summary: When a U.S. Coast Guard Cutter finds itself dead in the water in the heart a raging storm off the coast of Alaska with, the Thunderbirds are called upon for help. Rated T for the word 'screwed', I don't know, is screwed really such a bad word?
1. The Call

Update: I was Kindly informed of some typos...**  
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**The Cutter Orion**

_It's been a while since I've last uploaded a story, but my university keeps getting in the way of my holiday plans, please bear with me. Now then, on to my first multi-chapter story!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I just play with them..._

**The Call**

John sat down in his chair, careful not to spill the steaming cup of hot chocolate in his hands. His skilled eyes darted over the flashing screens. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He hit the mute button for the radio chatter, relying on Brain's speech recognition software to pick up on any urgent calls. He leaned forward slightly and pulled the National Geographic Scott had brought him on the last supply run. That had been almost three weeks ago, International Rescue had been too busy since then for the Space Monitor to get to his magazines.

Nursing his hot chocolate, John soon found himself lost; paging through the breath-taking photographs the yellow-framed magazine was so famous for. He jumped; almost spilling his drink all over the control panel, when a voice cracked over the radio.

"Pan-Pan, Pan-Pan, Pan-Pan." The computer picked up on the call and played the transmission over the speakers. "This is the United States Coast Guard, Nome Station Alaska relaying a Mayday for the Cutter Orion to International Rescue. Come in International Rescue. Over."

John darted forward, dropping the magazine, his drink forgotten on a coaster; he slammed his hand down on the button.

"This is International Rescue, receiving for the USCG Nome, go ahead, over."

"We are relaying a Mayday from the Cutter, Orion, received at 01:45, last known position 15 klicks due North of Sledge Island. Thirteen souls aboard. Vessel is dead in the water, taking on water from the storm, requesting immediate assistance. We are unable to respond, over."

John's fingers flew over the keys pulling up the meteorological data for the region of the past 14 days. His eyes darted over the display; the region has been taking a beating from a storm, reports were saying that it was the worst storm in recorded history. The Coast Guard had released a statement requesting emergency fuel donations from the city; nothing had been able to get in or out of the area for over a week. That had been 2 days ago, suggesting that the station probably did not have enough fuel to send a rescue.

"Message received and understood, standby, over." John called; he shifted in his seat and activated the klaxon.

"Go ahead John." His father's face appeared on the screen to his right. He turned and smiled slightly at seeing his family on the screen. He relayed the message from Alaska.

"Alright," Jeff Tracy said when his second eldest had finished speaking. He fell silent for a moment. A thoughtful expression edged on his face.

"Scott," He address the field commander who was already edging toward the tunnel that would lead him down into the silos. "take One to the scene and see if you can set up Mobile Control on Sledge Island. Virgil, take Thunderbird 2 and Pod 4. Gordon and Alan-" The father paused looking at the younger blond. "Alan, is your wrist okay?"

"A-Okay!" Alan said beaming at his father as he rolled the joint.

"-Alright, go with Virgil, we will need all hands on this one. We will try to airlift the crew from the cutter with the rescue platform. If that fails, Gordon, you will take over and use Four, have them attach their lifejackets to the railing and ferry them to Pod 4. Get those men home to their families. Understood?"

"F.A.B." Came the chorus from the four earthbound Tracy's. The four brothers looked at each other for a moment before departing to the Silos and into the Thunderbirds that would carry them to their destination.

Jeff sat down in his chair and turned toward John who has been waiting patiently.

"John, notify the Coast Guard that we are on our way. Keep me updated on any changes in weather condition. Try to secure a connection with the Cutter Orion. It will make the rescue operation easier if we have a direct line of comms with the crew."

"F.A.B." John acknowledged. "Five out."

John cut the video feed to the island and turned back to the radio.

"International Rescue calling the United States Coast Guard, Nome Station Alaska. Come in for International Rescue."

"This is the USCG Nome Station receiving you International Rescue, over."

"Our team is on their way to the Cutter Orion's last known location, E.T.A. 2 hours. Tell your boys to hold on, help is on the way, over."

"We will relay the message. Thank you. Is there anything we can help with?"

"Is there a way for me to connect directly to the Cutter?" John asked.

"Their long distance communication had been damaged by the storm and they have failed to get it up and running again, over."

"Understood," John answered. "I will try using our equipment to secure a connection. Will keep you updated, over."

"Received and understood, standing by. Over and out." The Coast Guard signed off leaving the space monitor to his job.

_Watch this space, the next chapter will be up in a couple of hours!_

_CreapyCreature_


	2. The Journey

**The Cutter Orion**

_Right then! As promised, I present, the next chapter!_

**The Journey**

"International Rescue calling the Cutter Orion. Please respond for International Rescue, over." John called into the radio. His throat was starting to hurt. He sat back in his seat and swallowed hard at the dryness that was tickling at his larynx.

"Nothing yet?" Scott's voice sounded over the comms before his face lit up on the video screen. John glanced at the screen that was tracking Thunderbird 1's progress over the planet. Scott was about 30 minutes from his destination; Virgil's ETA was 40 minutes.

"Nothing." John said shaking his head at his only older brother. He raked a slender hand through his blond hair. "I've angled every dish and antenna Five has to spare towards their last known position. They should be able to hear me."

"Maybe they can hear you but you can't hear them?" Scott tried. John fought the urge to roll his eyes at the field commander.

"Scott, I said, every dish and every antenna is aimed at their location; my systems can pick up a flies buzzing down there!" He snapped. Scott blinked at his usually poised brother's sudden outburst.

"John…" Scott said softly.

"I'm sorry." John said, glancing through his lashes at his brother. "The Coast Guard lost contact with the Cutter soon after relaying the message that help is on the way. I have no idea of knowing what you will find. I hate sending you in blind."

Scott smiled at the astronaut. He had a lot of respect for his younger sibling. He could never fathom how John could manage to stay as calm as he did when his brothers were down on earth placing their lives in danger to save some stranger, whilst he was stuck in a space station floating in the upper boundary of the exosphere.

"You did everything you could John." Scott said in the most reassuring voice he could manage. "Everyone knows that." Scott fell silent for a moment. "You have been up in that Tin Can for too long. I'm sending Alan up for a rotation the moment we get home."

"No," Alan's wining voice broke through the comms just as Thunderbird 2's cockpit sprang onto the video screen next to Scott's image.

The image showed Virgil in the pilot's seat. His brow slightly scrunched up as he fought to keep International Rescue's workhorse steady in the gusty winds. Despite the controls jerking in his usually steady hands, the medic's expression showed no hint of distress. He emanated the same cool, almost relaxed, concentration he showed when he lost himself in his artwork.

Gordon occupied the co-pilots seat; his face was relaxed and slightly amused, but whether his amusement was because of Alan's outburst or the fact that he knew his two eldest brothers had forgotten that their comms were open to everyone, only the Red Head would know. Only somebody who knew the aquanaut would recognize the slight tenseness in his damaged back that revealed the danger of the situation they were about to put themselves in.

Alan was leaning over his best friend and brother's seat, slightly sprawled out from his seat behind the co-pilot seat in an attempt to get hold of the comms.

"Come on Scott, Tin-Tin is coming back from England tomorrow. I haven't seen her in two weeks. And my wrist hasn't healed properly yet." The youngest Tracy moaned, waving a suddenly limp hand at the Field commander.

"Wrong hand," Scott stated simply, quirking an eyebrow at his brother's antics. Alan sighed, slamming his hand over his face with a load smack. "You can always take her along on your rotation." Scott added nonchalantly.

Alan pulled his face from his hand; he pondered the thought for a moment, blushed oh so slightly and pulled away from Two's control panel. "Fine." He grumbled, but his brothers could all see the smile he was fighting with when he plopped back into his seat.

"I'm not sure how I feel about having the kid and his 'girlfriend' on Five alone. I'm going to have to disinfect the entire place when I get back." John said, mock shivering. But he did not deny the fact that he had been up on the space station for a bit too long. Almost three month to be exact. Things had been so busy, they had one rescue after the other and on top of that Alan had fallen from a tree and sprained his wrist. Of all the places a kid with his job could have gotten injured it had to be at his own home.

John managed half a smile at his older brother, who was studying the blond closely, making him want to squirm under the Smother-Hen's gaze. John knew better than anyone how much Scott cared about him (and his brothers), but also knew that Scott worried about the integrity of the organization. If John went loopy they were all screwed.

'I'm fine.' He mouthed to Scott when the others were facing away from the cameras. Scott nodded.

"ETA 10 minutes," Scott said, glancing at his monitors. "I do not have a visual on Sledge Island or the Cutter Orion. Visibility is very low." He stated.

"Received." John said, grabbing his radio and adjusting the frequency.

"International Rescue calling for the United stated Coast Guard, Nome Station Alaska. Come in."

"Go ahead International Rescue." The voice crackled over the radio.

"Our first responder will be arriving at Sledge Island in 10 minutes. I have yet to connect with the Cutter Orion, over."

"Understood, no news from our side. Over and out."

John switched the radio back to broadcast on all frequencies. One last try.

"International Rescue calling the Cutter Orion. Please respond for International Rescue, over." The radio answered with nothing but static. He sighed, dropping his head onto the control panel.

There was a break in the static. John jerked his head up, turning the volume up, listening hard, nothing.

"International Rescue calling the Cutter Orion. Please respond for International Rescue, over." John called. Static, and then a short break, followed by another, and another. There was a pause, then a longer break in static, followed by two more longer breaks. John held his breath. Three more short breaks followed.

"Save Our Souls." John muttered.

"It's Morse Code!" Virgil exclaimed, looking up from his controls in Two.

John's hands reacted without him needing to think about it. The computer showed the call on the 500 kHz frequency. His hands danced over the keys as he tuned and refined the transmission.

"This is International Rescue. Are you the Cutter Orion? One break for 'yes', two for 'no', over." He called, fighting against the excitement and relief that was bubbling in his chest. The day was far from over, but he could not help the grin that spread over his face when there was only one, short break in the radio static.

"Do you have a way of verbal communication?" John asked. The static broke twice.

"Do you have your current position?" Two breaks.

"A last known position." He asked hopefully. One break, a pause, followed by a series of breaks and pauses that would sound like radio interference to an untrained ear, but the astronaut was scribbling a set of coordinates onto a piece of paper, grinning from ear to ear.

_Please let me know what you think so far! I'll upload the next chapter sometime tomorrow._

_CreapyCreature_


	3. The Plan

**The Cutter Orion**

_So this chapter is a bit later than I had originally promised, but yesterday was hectic and today isn't looking much better, but I pulled some strings and sacrificed some things. I also added another 1000 words and turned this 3 chapter story into a 4 chapter story as a peace offering. So here it is! _

**The Plan**

"I see them!" Virgil called. John was practically jumping around in his seat. Scott had managed to set up Mobile Control on a slightly elevated part of the tiny island that was practically flooded by the storm. Virgil had been scanning the new last known coordinates of the Cutter for some time now. John's hands patched him into a live feed from one of the cameras on Thunderbird 2's nose. He displayed the feed onto the main screen in the space station.

The Coast Guard Cutter Orion was being thrown around in the waves like a toy in a bathtub. She was listing precariously to her port side. A wave lifted the ship into the air and John could see a nasty gash in the port side of her hull. The wave dropped her back into the raging water. She all but disappeared into the dark ocean. She was floating too deep in the water; some of her compartments were definitely flooded.

She was heavily damaged and obviously dead in the water. There were no lights on the ship, only the light glow of an emergency light from the bridge. Her ballast tanks did not seem to be doing much to compensate for the list; the pumps must also be down. If she had carried a helicopter, it had been torn from her deck. Her main mast had been torn from her deck; it seemed that the mast had somehow taken the starboard lifeboat with it when it went down. The gash in the Orion's port side originated around where the port lifeboat should have been. John found himself once again in awe of the destruction Mother Nature could inflict.

There was a low rumble over the speakers and John quickly grabbed for the volume before Two's horn could build to the pitch that would have surely blown Five's speakers. The 200 decibel horn, that would have ruptured the eardrums of those standing to close, was just audible through the howling of the wind. Enough to signal the crew that help had arrived.

Moments after the last of the horn's pitch was carried away by the wind, a bright flare was lit on the deck. The flame illuminated the scene in an eerie red glow as the figures wearing orange life-jackets spilled out of the doomed vessel.

"I count nine crew members on deck!" Alan shouted. John winced.

"Alan, you need not shout." John called. "Your comms are attached to your throat. They pick up the vibrations from your voice box allowing for a clear-"

"Good to know, thanks for the lecture Space Face." Alan cut him off. John rolled his eyes and occupied another camera on Two's belly. He rotated the lens to take in the image of his youngest brother standing on the slightly lowered platform under Two's big, green hulk.

"Virgil," Scott called. "I think we should skip right to plan B. Those gusts will never allow for the rescue platform to be lowered."

John glanced at his instruments. The weather station on Thunderbird 2 measured a wind speed of 60 knots. The Beaufort scale flashed a bright red eleven at him with a red square framing a black square.

"F.A.B. Scott," Virgil answered.

"We need to secure a direct line of communication with the crew." Scott added. "It will be hard enough to convince these men and women to abandon ship, doing it without audio communication will be all but impossible."

The comms fell silent as everyone contemplated as to how they were going to talk to the crew waiting upon their rescue. The Orion's radio tower was gone; their receiver still seemed to work, but they had no way of emitting anything more than the short breaks in static that they used to send the S.O.S. with Morse code. Not even John with his quick deciphering skills would manage the conversation with Morse code that they needed to have with the crew.

"What about the air cannon on Two?"

"Gordon?" Scott asked.

"We can place a two way radio in the spout of Two's air cannon and launch it at the deck?" Gordon stated.

"In this wind?" Virgil scoffed.

"That may just be crazy enough to work." John interjected. "But I suggest we use one of Two's water cannons. I think the water might offer more protection than the air bubble."

We can take one of the two way radios and tie grappling hooks onto it, if it lands on the deck the hooks may just hook onto something!" Alan said, sounding far too excited.

There was a pause.

"Alright then," Scott said. "It's worth a try. Alan, do your grappling hook thing. Virgil, use the Aldis lamp to signal the crew to clear the deck. Gordon, ready Four, we will drop you as soon as we made contact. John, if this somehow works, you will be doing the talking."

The F.A.B. rang out like a chorus and the members of International Rescue jumped into action.

The comms were silent as Virgil took aim. Everyone held their breath as the column of water shot out from Two, carrying the waterproof two way radio wrapped with a bright yellow rope. The column crashed into the deck and the water disappeared in the downpour of rain. The bright yellow parcel skidded across the deck and even the storm held its breath for a moment.

A crew member sprang from under the shelter one of the walkways on deck gave and sprinted after the yellow thing. The parcel slipped overboard and the crewman dove for it. He disappeared under the starboard railing.

"No!" John shouted. The comms squealed painfully in his ear as his brother too expressed their shock and dismay of losing one of the crew that had been so close to being rescued.

"What have I done?" Gordon whispered to himself. But the comms picked up his voice box's vibration and played the red head's apprehension to his brothers.

"It's not your fault Gords." Scott interjected.

_I skimped a bit on the editing, so excuse any mistakes. Next chapter will be uploaded tomorrow morning (or in about 12 hours from now depending on which side of the world you find yourself at!)_

_CreapyCreature_


	4. The Rescue

**The Cutter Orion**

_As promised, the final chapter!_

**The Rescue**

Something orange flashed at them from the starboard railing. Followed by a bright yellow parcel waving around in the air. The now 11 crew members on deck all rushed to their colleague's aid. They dragged the orange clad figure onto the deck. When the crewman was back on his feet he once more waved the yellow parcel at the rescuers before pulling it to his face.

John sighed. His fingers felt numb with relief as he fiddled with the knobs on his radio.

"This is the skipper of the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Orion calling International Rescue, over." A female voice crackled through the radio.

"This is International Rescue, receiving you Skipper." John said, his voice ever cool and calm despite the way his entire body was shaking. "You can call me John, mam, nice to finally put a voice to the vessel, over."

"Oh, thank God!" The skipper called back. "You have no idea how happy we are to see you. My name is Sally, over."

John smiled; he had a pretty good idea. "Nice dive you took there Sally. Please don't do it again."

The radio laughed. "I'm afraid a can make no promises to that request John."

John beamed. "Is all your crew accounted for? Over." John asked.

"Only the captain is still inside the ship. Everyone else is accounted for." She answered.

"Received and understood Sally. Stand by."

He connected himself with his brothers.

"The captain is still within the ship. All other crew is on deck. Proceed with your part of the operation." John told Virgil.

"Ready." Gordon called.

"Lowering Pod 4" Virgil stated, flicking at switches on Two's bridge. John watched the green Thunderbirds all but dismantle itself to release the pod from its body. He switched from one camera to another, following his brothers descent.

Pod 4 paused, still attached to its mother ship. Virgil skillfully lowered his Thunderbird to hover closer to the waves. The pod tilted and the bright yellow submarine dropped from the pod into the ocean. John found himself nodding his approval at his brother's decision not to drop the entire pod into the ocean just jet, retrieval would be much harder if the pod caught in the currents.

"Thunderbird 4 clear and ready for action." Gordon called. John could hear the smile on the aquanaut's lips. Something the astronaut could understand. There's no place like home. John thought, stroking a loving hand over the control panel of his Thunderbird.

"F.A.B. Gordon, stand by." Scott called. "Alan, count the crew and report their progress, John tell them to abandon ship."

John's computer beeped at him. The Beaufort scale flashed twelve and a second black square framed by red appeared. John opened his comms.

"Wind speed now measuring 68 knots." He called. "Please be careful." He added in a whisper.

"F.A.B. John, compensating." Virgil answered.

"Hey, watch it!" Alan exclaimed, grabbing onto the railing as Thunderbird 2 lurched slightly in a gust.

"Sorry kid." Virgil answered. There was no smile in his face; the pilot was fighting hard with the storm for control over his 'Bird.

"Alan, be careful." Scott said, his voice was calm, but John heard the worry seeping into their big brother's voice.

"Yeah, yeah Smother Hen." Alan muttered smugly. But John could see the youngest Tracy on the screen, checking his safety line before he stepped closer to the railing to get a better view of the scene below Thunderbird 2.

"International Rescue calling for Sally. Come in." John called.

"Receiving you John, what should we do?" She asked.

"I count twelve head." Alan called.

"Any sign of your captain?" John asked Sally.

"Negative, over." She answered.

"The captain is still M.I.A. but I think we should proceed." John said to his brothers.

To Sally he said. "We have a man standing in the belly of Thunderbird 2. He will be our eyes and monitor the rescue from his eagle-eyed view. Could you sign yes for him?" The smaller figure standing amongst the small crowd of cowering crew members, glanced at Thunderbird 2 and lifted her arms into the air, forming a 'Y' with her body to sign for yes.

"I see her." Alan called.

"Wonderful," John said. "Now I need you to trust me. My colleague is heading toward you in the yellow submarine. There are railings along the submarine's sides. Abandon ship and swim for the railings. Sign yes if you understand."

John held his breath as there was a pause from the crew members.

"Could you say that again?" Sally asked, glancing around at her crew. Just then the thirteenth crew member came running from the bridge. John waited until the captain reached his skipper. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Abandon ship and swim to the yellow submarine. There are railing on its sides, hold on to them and Thunderbird 4 will carry you to safety." He stated simply. His voice managing a reassuring and calm tone that would calm even the most hysterical victim. The captain turned to his crew, gesturing wildly at his crew. He turned back to face Two.

"Received and understood." A male called through the radio. Sally signed for yes. John exhaled in relief and reminded himself to thank Brains for deciding to attach the railing to Thunderbird 4 all those months ago.

The yellow dot within the black ocean neared the Cutter. Orion was now listing to her port and forward toward her bow. Her stern was lifting from the water, exposing her starboard propeller.

One by one the crew took their leap of faith into the churning ocean. Resurfacing as an orange lifejacket bobbing in the black waters. The swimmers battled the waves and one by one managed to attach themselves to Thunderbird 4. Alan counted the crew as they jumped from their ship and arrived at Four. John knew that it was the intense training that these men and women had to go through to earn their place on the Cutter Orion that allowed for this rescue to go as smoothly as it did. He shudders at what would have happened if these were civilians.

"Number ten just attached to four." Alan said. Sally jumped. "Crewmember twelve jumped." A pause. "Crew member twelve surfaced and is swimming to Four. Then the captain, glancing back at the vessel before facing the waves.

When the last swimmer attached himself to Four, Gordon swung the submarine around and sailed toward where Thunderbird 2 was hovering patiently.

"Dropping Pod 4." Virgil declared flicking a switch that allowed the pod to drop into the ocean in front of Thunderbird 4. Gordon skillfully maneuvered his 'Bird into the pod.

"Four secure and ready." Gordon called for Virgil.

"F.A.B. Standby." The cables that still attached themselves to the pod from Two started tightening. The tension rippled through the wires as the winches started lifting the pod and its precious cargo from the clawing ocean. Virgil all the time keeping his 'Bird in sync with the pitch and roll of the waves.

When the pod lowered itself onto the platform, John held his breath once again as Alan dashed inside. There was a moment of silence and then Alan's voice called through the comms.

"All thirteen crew members accounted for. Some minor cuts and bruises, they will need treatment for shock and hypothermia, other than that they will live."

When Alan's comms fell silent, as if she had been waiting to make sure everyone was safe, the Cutter Orion pitched forward, her bow dipping into a wave. The wave rose above and over her. It crashed over her stern and engulfed her entire form. She did not rise again.

Everyone fell silent, as if to pay their respects to the ship, even the storm seemed to lighten up for a few moments.

"Good work boys." Jeff's voice finally broke the silence. This had been a textbook rescue, probably one of the most successful rescues in IR's history. The relief of the entire situation crashed down onto John and he found himself feeling slightly lightheaded.

"Boys," Jeff called. "Get those men to a hospital ASAP and head on home when you are done. John, notify the Coast Guard, tell them their people are safe. And the pack your bags, you are rotating with Alan tomorrow."

"F.A.B." The five members of International Rescue chimed in over their comms. Johns smiled; he was more than happy to deliver this message.

**The End**

_There you go! Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think._

_CreapyCreature_


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